Page 52 of Saving the Last Heir
“Bullshit,” I snarled, gripping the phone hard enough for the tendons in my hand to creak. “You said I had to steal this car,and that was it. I get my sister’s egg back.” I slashed my free hand through the air like a knife. “There was notalkof another job. That’s it. We. Are. Done.”
Joseph was quiet for a long time, the only sound on his end was the steady hiss of his breath going in and out. The pause in conversation was enough for my initial blind anger to fade into an uneasy worry.
“Are you giving me ultimatums?” So far, in all of our conversations, I’d never heard him sound so dangerous, so quiet and calculating, like a man contemplating something dangerous.
I took a deep breath to steady my nerves and said, “I’m not giving ultimatums. I’m only saying that you said?—”
“Don’t you fucking tell me what I said!”he screamed, his voice so loud, I had to pull the phone from my ear. “I know what I said. AndnowI’m saying something different. You see, Jacky boy, I’ve got you by the short and curlies. Whatever I say goes. I like having you on a leash. You say no? I take a fucking sledgehammer to this egg. You tell me to fuck off? I throw it out of a goddamn plane. You don’t do exactly what I say, to thefuckingletter? Maybe I wait until it hatches, then see how my dogs like some soft baby dragon meat. Huh? How’s that sound? I could mail you the little skeleton and video the?—”
“Please no!” I cried, almost in tears because I could hear in his voice that he was serious. He really would do all that, if not worse. “I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you want. Just tell me.”
Joseph sighed, an audible cue that he’d calmed somewhat. “That’s better. I like when my bitches know who their daddy is.”
I said nothing to that, but peeled my lips back in an angry grimace. My dragon, the alpha side of me,screamedout that Icouldn’t let this man treat me like this, but I had no other choice. I had to put my ego and pride aside to keep my family safe.
“What’s the job?” I hissed through gritted teeth.
“I’ll let you know when I get my car. Night-night, Jack.”
The line went dead, and I stood there, trembling with gut-wrenching disappointment and anger. In a fit of rage, I scooped up the bowl and slammed it into the trash can so hard the bowl shattered. Pasta sauce exploded in the can, painting the trash bag in bloody smears of sauce. I imagined it as the gore that would erupt from JosephfuckingAnitoli when I tore the top half of his body off with my dragon teeth.
I pressed my back against the wall and slid down to the tile floor, burying my face in my hands. I’d do whatever that jackass wanted. I had to, but I wasn’t sure how I’d ever know when it would be enough. If I kept doing illegal shit for this man, eventually, my luck would run out. I’d be done. Arrested or dead.
In reality, human police couldn’t hold me, I could shift and break out of anything they put me in, but that would open up my entire family to scrutiny from a government that preferred to stamp out perceived threats. I’d be dooming them to a life of running and terror. No. If I was taken, I’d have to accept that fate.
I had to figure out how to get my sister away from that psycho, but I couldn’t see a way out. I didn’t know where he had her hidden, I didn’t even know wherehewas.
Letting my head fall back against the wall, I looked up at the ceiling in despair.
“What do I do?” I asked the empty kitchen.
As expected, there was no answer.
11
JACKSON
Isat on my bed the next morning, staring off into space. I was neither refreshed nor energized. After hours of tossing and turning, I’d finally slipped into a fitful sleep filled with sporadic and terrifying dreams of loss, death, and despair. In fact, upon waking up, I’d had to lay motionless for a few seconds to ensure none of those awful things my subconscious had conjured were real.
I took a breath. There was nothing to be gained from slipping into despondency. I knew what I had to donow, and that was all I could focus on. Getting the car finished and handing it over to Joseph. Then? Well, then I’d figure out how to do what was next.
A small niggling fear in the back of my mind told me that I’d become Sisyphus, and Joseph was forcing me to perpetually roll a boulder up a mountain over and over, for eternity.
The mental image drew a snarling growl from my dragon, and I snatched up my phone from beside the bed and called Christian.
“I swear to God, you better not ask me to deliver pizza or something today,” he said.
“No food this time,” I muttered.
He must have heard something in my voice, because his usual jovial and sarcastic tone vanished.
“What’s wrong?’
I told him. Christian was, if anything, possiblymoreangry than I’d been, and muttered a string of curses.
“That ass-sucking, shit-fucking, bastard-ass motherfucker! I can’t believe this shit.”
“I know,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “I needed you to know. I…” I paused, unsure what to say next, then went on, “I don’t want you to get any more involved than you are, but if I need help, will you?—”
